Haunted Isle
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: What starts as a calm and beautiful day in Hillwood snowballs into both Arnold and Helga being lost at sea, in separate ways and in very different circumstances. There is also a ghost story.


**Okay, this one's a ghost story. Heheehehee. I've combined all my not-so-good scripts into two, err, DECENT scripts, so effectively I have two more stories to post unless I write an adaptation of Arnold's internet savvy chapter book with Phoebe as the main character so that she is the one meeting Helga with the red rose instead of Brainy, as means to protect Helga from herself. Here's one of two.**

Around the northern coastline just beyond Hillwood lay an island, heavily forested and steeply cliff-faced on one wave-battered side. Seldom did any living man or woman go there. Yet the primary reason no one went there was not the lack of a beach. A slender strip of sand facing the undulating waters of the continent looked inviting enough. But the early mornings wrapped by fog inspired hauntings from past residents of the isle. One might have imagined a dull-eyed spector standing upright in the beach, wrapped in a gray wool blanket. At night, one might have imagined lampfires in a tall building faced with mortared stones and the restless spirits of fourteen young school girls wandering. But the one, spooky truth that anybody knew for certain was that there were fourteen tombstones with girl's names placed on the isle. That fact alone made the island spooky enough to avoid, as did the story that all of the island's previous residents had died in a tragic fire in a single night. A grand manor made of stone had burned to the ground with a good number of innocent souls within it. Such a fate was so unsavory, that grown men shivered and steered their boats away from the island even if surely the island's shores were beholden with fish. Instead, they told one another tales of fish they had caught near that particular isle that had been afflicted with unnatural traits such as an extra fin or a strangely set pair of eyes. The island was cursed they said, for all eternity. None lingered on it for long.

No one from P.S. 118 or the area of Hillwood close by Vine Street had ever been to the Haunted Isle. No one ever expected to. And yet, three of their number would much by mistake. It would be an experience they would always suppress with a shiver on retelling.

An upset, upsidedown afternoon for all began with Arnold meeting up with Sid and Stinky on the sidewalk. The two were best of pals and so, it was it was not unusual for Arnold to see the pair roaming the sidewalks in tandem. At first, it seemed the two boys were examining the cracks in the sidewalk, but in truth, they were looking for someone much larger than a sidewalk ant.

"Oh hey, Arnold!" Stinky greeted the boy in a jovial manner. "Have you seen Harold hereabouts?"

"No." Arnold shook his head plainly. But a shop bell tinkled. Stinky's attention shifted in the direction of the faint sound.

"Ah, there he is!" Stinky pointed off into the distance. Around the bend, Harold was coming out of the stationary store on the walk between school and Arnold's house. Blank journals and day planners set in the window on a velvet cloth draped shelf for people to admire, but the shop door was a metal and glass one with a tiny, silvery, ringing shop bell much like everyone else's. Harold clutched a small paper envelope in his arms. The parcel was just large enough to contain a notebook, perhaps, or some folders for school. But Harold spun around and stared at his good friends Sid and Stinky as they came into sight.

"Harold!" Stinky hailed his good friend and fellow classmate. "You up to doing something? We were just about to round up you and whoever else and go down to the pier for a chili-cookoff."

"Yeah, sure I do! Food!" Harold beamed.

"You're welcome to come too, Arnold, if ya want to!" Stinky offered.

"Well, sure. Actually, Stinky, Gerald told me about it, too. I'd love to go!"

Arnold did join his friends at the chili cooking contest. A pleasant surprise for Arnold was that Gerald's father was one of the participants in the chili contest. Mr. Green, Nadine's father, Mr. Potts, and Harvey the Mailman were all contestants, each having brought their own crock pot full of chili and beans. Even more happily, Gerald had come along with his dad, so Arnold was able to sit at a picnic table across from best friend, Gerald.

Other kids in Arnold's neighborhood had congregated rather naturally at two of the picnic tables. Stinky Peterson was one of the eager samplers. Beside him, Gerald looked up admiringly at his father, Mr. Johansen, whom was cheerfully using grill tools and an apron to warm yet another batch of chili to be portioned out for sampling. Sid sat further down the table, where he shoveled several helpings of the contest chili into his mouth. Sid then popped open a quart milk carton and swigged from the little, triangular paper spout. Arnold slowly chewed through his own bowl. Harold slurped the remnants of his. Then he pulled second, fuller bowl in front of him. The boy paused momentarily to pour a heap of oyster crackers on top so that the chili was buried from sight and below a toppling mound.

"Alright! All the chili I can eat!" Harold grinned. Gerald was similarly pleased.

"This is QUITE good!" the boy stated with better manners than most.

"I concur!" Rhonda Lloyd spoke up proudly. "And so does Nadine!" the girl gestured to her faithful best friend and companion. "I'm so glad you invited me, Nadine!"

"Think nothing of it, Rhonda," the girl said with practiced humility. She stirred the piping hot chili in her bowl with her spoon to cool it. "And where did you all hear of it? The contest posters?"

"We sure did!" Stinky nodded his long nose. He let some of the chili drip off his long spoon before he ate rest. "I wuz lured in by the promise of free food!"

"Isn't the chili the best, guys? So many entries to choose from!" Eugene said, walking on his way to join them at a picnic table. But the boy tripped and fell. Hot chili splatted dangerously close to the center of the picnic table.

"Oh!" Eugene clambered to his feet again, a little dizzy from his fall. "I'd better get another bowl, then." The red-haired boy ambled away out of sight.

"Wow, that was close!" Sid grumbled. The flying chili had shot a spoon out of his hand.

"Tell me about it!" Rhonda sniffed. The chili had hit a post near her end of the table. She rolled her eyes.

"It sure was!" Stinky agreed mildly. "But hey! After this, you reckon we all wanna do something together? It's a dang fine afternoon!"

"Go to the theatre!" advised Rhonda.

"Ride the ferry!" spoke up Sheena, whom was also there.

"Ride our bikes!" Gerald grinned

"Badminton?" Rhonda suggested, more mildly. "Oh, wait a minute! Hold on! There's a phone call for me on my BRAND NEW cellphone. Hold on!" Rhonda pulled open a violet purple cellphone and held it up to her ear. "Yes, hello Daddy? Yachting? This afternoon? Ooooh, that sounds just delightful! Yes, I'll come home right away to meet up with Mummy. But hm, Daddy? Can I bring Nadine with me? All of my friends?! Oh Daddy you simply are the best! The most fabulous father in the universe! Oh, well I'll see you in a few minutes then! Choi!" Rhonda hung up the phone, a smile more smug than every gracing her lips.

"Guess what, people!" Rhonda declared imperiously. "My father just called and said I could invite ALL my friends to our little yachting excursion on the bay this afternoon! Want to come with, Nadine?

"Sure, Rhonda. It'd be fun!"

"Of course, you're invited, Arnold! And you, too, Harold. And even Gerald and Sid and Stinky," the girl said crossing her arms and rolling her eyes away. "And Sheena! You may come, too, if you wish."

"Oh, I'm sure it'd be very enjoyable!" Sheena mumbled out. She had been eating cornbread instead of chili. Her plate and face was a mess of crumbs.

"Excellent! Let's go!" Rhonda declared with a wave to rise. She lifted herself up from her seat as if it were a throne instead of a park bench, to stride in the direction of her home. The other kids began to follow after her.

"Wait for me!" Eugene squawked as he fell over with a newly refilled bowl of chili. "HOT, HOT! Ow…"

In what had to be one of the most exciting days of their lives, Rhonda's friends all made their way up a gangplank to Rhonda's family yacht. Her father was wearing his blue captain's cap and her mother a white boating dress with straw cap. They watched passively as Harold hung off a lifesaver. The other kids busied themselves by exploring the ship. After peering into the cabin, then ducking out again, Arnold and Gerald bent over the side rails of the craft to see their own reflections in the water. They smiled.

"Yeah!" Gerald grinned with delight. The two exchanged their friendship thumb shake.

"This is really cool!" Arnold grinned.

"Way cool!" his best friend concurred.

"Argh!" Sheena's Uncle Earl grumbled as he sped by the moored craft in his small speedboat. Sheena gave her uncle a friendly wave as he disappeared from view.

"Well, anchor's away!" Mr. Lloyd announced at long last. The ship glide smoothly out of its dock and into the bay of Hillwood. Shipping barges were parked on the other side of the bay, gleaming brilliantly red or blue in the noonday sun. But they steered far away from the shipping lanes to more shallow waters the large shipping vessels could not ply.

"Ah! The sea breeze! The sunshine! The cry of seagulls! Can't get any better than this!" Gerald grinned. Arnold was having a good time, too. The afternoon might have been perfect. Except for one thing. The motor began smoking. A big cloud of black smoke began to trail the craft.

"Oh, what's the matter, dumpling?" Rhonda's mother gasped.

"I'll be deduced but the motor's gone out, dearest! Nothing to worry about though! I've already radioed a signal for distress. But for now, I'll land us beside the peninsula over there until help can come."

"How wise of you, Buckley!" Rhonda's mother croned.

"Oh no!" Rhonda gaped. "How could this ever have happened? Wait, what's that?!" She spotted Eugene dangling from the prow of the boat, tangled in a knot of ropes. "Who invited HIM along? The walking jinx!?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I thought you had invited Eugene, too!" Sheen mumbled. "I let him on."

"Tsk! Let's just pull him up!" Rhonda rolled her eyes again. Harold and Stinky used their muscles to heft the smaller boy up from the prow of the boat. They set him gently on the deck.

"Whew! Thanks for saving me, you guys!" Eugene gushed profusely.

"Don't worry about it," Rhonda said flatly, more annoyed than pleased with the boy. "Well since we're stranded here for a while, we might as well go exploring. Is that okay, Daddy?"

"Don't go out of sight of the beach!" the man said. Rhonda tossed a rubber floating raft over the sides of the ship for them all to reach the beach.

"I'll stay here!" Sheena mumbled.

"Me, too!" volunteered Eugene.

"Oh no you don't!" Rhonda glared. She grasped hold of Eugene's skinny arm. "You're coming with me!" She seated the scrawny, red-haired boy in the craft. "Harold? Want to come?"

"I reckon I'll sit tight and stay aboard the vessel," Stinky said. "Seeing as I'm a city boy, born and bred."

"I'll come with you!" Sid volunteered.

"Yeah, I'll all stay here and wait for the help to come! But you go on ahead if you want to, Arnold. I can see the thirst for adventure gleaning in your eyes." Gerald said sensibly.

"Let's go!" Rhonda rallied. She pressed a plastic paddle against the edge of the yacht and they steered the little life raft towards an overgrown beach.

"OOOH!" Eugene gasped as they reached a bed of small rocks and coarse beach sand. "This is so neat! It's like our own private island, Skipper!" Eugene spoke to Harold.

"Don't call me, Skipper!" Harold groused. But Eugene moved so fast it nearly made Harold spin around. Arnold studied the beach.

"Well. We could gather some driftwood together in case we don't get rescued right away. It's just a thought."

"Yeah, right Professor!" Rhonda griped. "We have a gas-grill and European mineral water on my parent's yacht! Not to mention a full year's supply of gourmet cheese and caviar. We'll be fine. Even if it takes us a MONTH to be rescued."

"A month!" Harold said, jarred by the electrifying information. "We'll miss school! And all my favorite episodes on television. Oh no!" Harold clutched his head.

"Oh, look on the bright side, Harold!" Eugene said. "At least now we all will have time to bond as friends!" With a nod, Rhonda and Nadine decided they had had enough of Eugene. They tied him up with some nautical rope and set him on the beach.

"Now, you stay there and don't cause any trouble!" Rhonda huffed.

"Yeah!" Nadine agreed with best-friend loyalty.

"Don't you think that's a little harsh?" Arnold asked the two cruelty-practicing girls. He felt sorry for Eugene.

"It's his fault we're here in the first place!" Rhonda sniffed. "But AT LEAST let's enjoy the beach. Nadine? I say... Beach party!"

But the boys were not interested in Rhonda's beach party idea. They were off doing their own thing. "Enguard!" Harold jabbed at Sid with a tiny bit of a stick. Sid dueled back until his twiggy branch broke. The two boys played at being fierce.

"Humph!" Rhonda sniffed. "I suppose that means I will have to do everything myself! With your expert help, Nadine, of course!"

Before long, the two wore seashells in their hair and set up a small canopy tent for shade. Rhonda's father had rowed over to the beach with them to help unload of a cooler full of ice and a small radio. Rhonda flipped the switch on and adjusted the dial to find music to listen to. Harold, meanwhile, rummaged through the cooler.

"What's this?!" Harold scowled at the water in his hand. "Blackberry spritzer? Crackers and moldy cheese?! Spew! And what's this little can of black stuff?"

"Caviar," Rhonda explained with glee. "You know, fish roe."

"And what is that?" Harold sniffed. Rhonda whispered in his ear and Harold threw the tin over his shoulder.

"Spew! This isn't food! I want something good to eat!"

"Oh, Harold!" Rhonda frowned in displeasure. She crossed her arms to turn away with a sniff. "I'll have you know that caviar is VERY expensive."

"I don't care how expensive it is," Harold argued back. "I just want something I can eat. Right now!"

"Oh, Harold!" Rhonda flustered. "Maybe I can make you some cucumber sandwiches or something. For now, how about you sit down and listen to some music?"

"Well, alright," Harold muttered. He sat down by the radio and twisted some buttons. A suddenly irate Rhonda batted his hands away from the controls.

"Not that way, Harold! That's the transmitter!"

"Transmitter?" Harold asked meekly. "What's that?"

"Sigh! A transmitter is like the radio only its when someone hears you and they can speak back."

"Hm?!" Harold uttered. "Help, help! I'm stuck on an island with only cold, canned, cruddy food to eat and I'm starving. I'm only a little boy! I'm too young to die!" Harold pled into the receiver. Rhonda snatched the radio away from Harold.

"Never mind, Harold," Rhonda spoke to whomever might hear them on the other side of the transmission. "Father's already asked for someone to come to help us with our engine trouble. I'm sure they'll be here shortly." A voice crackled on the airwaves. To his credit, Rhonda's father took all with and air of calm.

"Hand the radio over here, dumpling. I'll speak to them." Rhonda's father sat down beside the radio to speak to it. Unlike Harold, he put on a set of headphones. He nodded in agreement with whomever was on the line.

Back in Hillwood, there were two friends whom had not been included in Rhonda's excursion to the beach. One was Phoebe. The other was Helga. They were in other places and so they had made other plans. Both had stayed home all morning, and now, after lunch, they met on the stoop outside Phoebe's house.

"Done reading!" Phoebe said with zeal. "That book was captivating!" She smiled almost giddily up at Helga, who waited for her to descend her front steps.

"Good to hear it," Helga said even though she was indifferent. "So are you comin'! The afternoon's awasting! Weekend's almost over! We've gotta do something!"

"Hmm. Like what?" Phoebe asked.

"Baseball!" Helga grinned. "We can shake the dust at Gerald Park. Except where'd everyone go? I don't see any other kids around."

"Hm. I haven't either." Helga and Phoebe looked. They rung doorbells. They searched yards, restaurants, and arcades, but their other friends were nowhere to be found.

"Hm. It's like the Pied Piper of Hamelin or somethin'!" Helga observed.

"Nah. That can't be it, Helga! Flute music can't entrance anyone! Except Harold that is! I know.. I tried." Phoebe countered. "But let's do something else, just the two of us!

"Sounds great, Phoebe! What do you have in mind?"

"Um, visit the park's new planting of Pelargoniums?" Phoebe stuttered. But that didn't sound interesting at all to Helga. She didn't need to say the word bah to express it.

"Ah, well! I have some laundry that needs doing. Do you wanna drop by my house?"

"Um, okay!" Phoebe smiled gently. She trotted along beside Helga as they made their way down the street.

The two girls rode the bus to a place several blocks away. Helga descended the steps of the bus, a large laundry basket in hand. She set it down on the sidewalk to rest and stare at a neon "open" sign glowing before them. They had reached the local laundromat.

"Don't you usually use the dry cleaning services here?" Phoebe asked.

"I do. But today I've just got a bunch of shirts and things. I'll wash them myself!" Helga explained.

Helga and Phoebe walked inside. Inside were a few quirky decorations, and a television blaring soaps. Phoebe sat down in a high backed chair immediately and began to watched soaps. Her face softened and her jaw dropped so that she almost drooled. The crowd of adults at the laundromat similarly almost resembled zombies in how fixated they were with the television screen.

"Phoebe? Phoebe?" Helga uttered, then filed to attract her best friend's attention. She shrugged, then turned back to her work. Phoebe was lost in a T.V. drama invoked dreamland, so Helga shoved her clothes into a washer and added a scoop of soap. Phoebe shook herself out of the daydream and wandered near the washer as Helga left it. She stared down into the pile of pink and white clothes inside the washer's metal, cylinder bin.

"Oh! I think Helga might have forgotten to add soap!" Phoebe mumbled since she could not see any. She added a little scoop then rested the box on the top of the machine. She wandered over to where Helga was about to feed a crumpled bill into the change machine.

"Here we go!" Helga declared. She stuck a dollar bill up to the machine. But with an angry whirr, it refused to pull the dollar in. After a few tries, it sucked the green paper into its gears, only to spit it back out again with the fierce sound of grinding.

"Why you!" Helga spat with bitter annoyance. "Why won't you take the dollar! Hey, Phoebe, is this machine broken or something?"

Wordless, Phoebe feed a dollar from her own pocket into the machine. She blinked as the machine spat change. Phoebe then took Helga's dollar and tried to feed it into the machine. But no matter what, it refused to dispense change. It spat the dollar out each time it sensed paper.

"Hm, Helga how much more change do you need?"

"Another dollar at least, for the dryer!" sniffed Helga. "Hm, there's no hope for it! Stand back Phoebe!"

"Oh wow, Helga, is that a twenty?"

"Yep."

"Oh, Helga are sure you that's a good idea?" Phoebe blinked. "That's a lot of money… and a lot of quarters."

"Well, here goes!" Helga put the twenty into the quarter machine. The machine sucked the bill in speedily, then after a pause as if to think, began to roll out quarters. Helga scooped out a few of them. Both of Helga's hands were filled, but the change machine continued to spit out quarters until the catch cup was overfilled.

"Ack! Phoebe!" Helga whimpered as quarters began to roll about the floor in every direction. "Do something!" Phoebe darted forward to grab hold of a fistful of quarters herself. She began to shovel them onto the edge of her skirt. Helga pocketed her quarters then grasped hold of a few more fistfuls as the noisy, clattering coin machine fell into silence at last. The sound of all those quarters falling had nearly been a dull roar.

"Whew! It stopped finally," Phoebe said. With a dull smile of relief, Phoebe bent over to find all the loose quarters that had bounced to the floor.

Phoebe and Helga were still hunting quarters when the washing machine containing Helga's clothes began jiggling. As old washers do sometimes, it had become unbalanced and vibrated roughly, rocking slightly side to side. The soap powder on the top of the washer fell in. The clothes washer began to bubble up and froth.

Curly's family happened to own this, and other laundromats in the area. So, by chance, Curly himself poked his head out from behind and door reading "employees only". He adjusted his glasses to the tip of his nose to be sure to what he was seeing. Yes, that was an ocean of soap bubbling out of the washer and pouring onto the floor. It spread across the room in a messy froth. Helga and Phoebe noticed the flood of bubbles only when it interrupted their quarter hunting.

"AHEM!" Curly grunted at the two girls in a loud and disapproving voice. "Hey you! Didn't you read the signs? Please do not oversuds!" Curly pointed to one of many posters pasted up on the wall.

"Eeep! Oh, I'm sorry, Helga!" Phoebe uttered. "I must have put in too much soap!"

"But I put in the soap." Helga turned her head around. Curly fished a hand into the washer to pull out a soggy cardboard box.

"Well, that explains it, ladies!" Curly said pointing to the box. "I'll get a mop and bucket, but please remember proper procedure next time! We also sell single sell portions!" Curly held up a tiny packet of soap.

"Oh, wow, Curly," said Phoebe. "Do you work here?"

"No, my family owns this place," Curly said. "I come here often, myself."

"So you… hang around out back?" Helga thought out loud.

"Yep." Curly proudly pointed to himself. "Unlike you, I can come and go as my please. Ha! Would you like to see something?"

"Er, what?" asked Phoebe. Helga shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea what Curly was talking about.

"We have some things- like coats- people never returned for even after eighty years. This is an old family business." Curly said with pride.

"Ooooh, like what?" Phoebe uttered with awe. Curly gestured his finger in a come-here motion. He led them to the "personnel only" sign. It was not wise, perhaps, to follow their crazy friend, but they followed after Curly to arrive at a closet at the end of a very short hall. Inside it were clothes hanging on hooks, like red and white polka dot dresses and fake fur coats.

"This is our great, big, lost-and-found box!" Curly exclaimed with triumphant glee. "Here, try this on!" Curly advised them. He put a floppy hat with a feather on it on his own head. Helga wrapped a feather boa around her neck. Phoebe found a gypsy shawl and a turban. They studied themselves in the mirror.

"Teehee!" Phoebe giggled. "This is great! Who would have thought there'd be so many… unique looking clothes here!" She held up a pair of enormous orange clown shoes. Helga was admiring a cow costume in one hand, and an elf costume in the other. She hung up both back in the closet.

"Well, I'd better finish my clothes up," Helga said tiring. She walked back out the closet. Curly brought a yellow mop bucket around and he politely helped them clean up the soap bubbles. They rinsed Helga's clothes out in a sink, then threw them in the machine. At long last, it was time to dry them.

"Oh no!" Phoebe said holding up the basket. Helga was one step behind her.

"What's the matter?" Helga lifted up half her brow.

"All the dryers are in use!" Phoebe mourned. "We might have to wait quite awhile." A scowling woman with an enormous bottom glared at them as she folded clothes. Phoebe inched away.

"No problem!" Curl said. "You can use this dryer here! The sign on it says, 'out of order' but that's only because the latch inside is broken! But you may still use it if you hold it shut!" Curly pointed to a larger dryer with a sign taped to it.

"I'm okay with waiting," Phoebe squeaked. "Right, Helga?" But Helga had begun shoveling her clothes in. She set the dryer spinning.

"Oooh, this IS kinda boring," Helga said after a while. "Oooh, ah!" she stretched. Helga lifted her hands off the glass door for a moment. The dryer door flew open and clothes strew all over, some of them covering Phoebe. "Ooops, sorry. Do you mind if I take a little break for soda?"

"Ah, no, Helga. I'll hold the door for you," Phoebe volunteered kindly.

Helga wandered away. But she did not wander back soon. She drank her soda, then ate snacks out the store's vending machine, then watched television.

"Ha, ha, ha!" Helga laughed as she sat in the waiting area chair. "This show is so STUPID! That girl is your favorite character, huh, Phoebe?"

"Right," Phoebe glared. Helga was being an inconsiderate jerk again.

"Oh, sorry Phoebes!" Helga corrected herself. "Here I come!" Helga took her place beside the dryer. She tapped her foot three times. Then she looked at the clock.

"Ah, well good enough!" she declared firmly. Helga scooped the clothes out of the laundry and stuffed them in a bag.

"Are those dry yet?" Phoebe asked.

"Not quite but I'm tired of waiting! I'll air them out when I get home or something. Good enough! Let's drop these off back at my place and then go out to the movies or something." Phoebe helped Helga stuff all her clothes into a sack. Smiling, they trundled on their way to the door to get to the bus stop on the corner.

But Phoebe and Helga had not left the building yet when a news flash came onto the television screen. All the women in the waiting room murmured amongst themselves in such a way it was impossible to not pay attention.

"Aw, isn't that too bad!" one of them clucked.

Helga spun her head in the direction of the television. She dropped her bag of clean, if slightly damp, laundry to the floor as a news cable came in.

"This just in!" The thin-faced, brunette news reporter announced. "More details on the children stranded on the yacht in distress- all of the nine children- were there nine Carrie?"

"Yes, it has been affirmed they are eight! I mean nine! In total and not in years. Yes!" Another woman said via split screen. The brunette resumed speaking.

"All nine of these young men and women are students at Hillwood's very own P.S. 118! And now a word from their teacher!" A very nervous and addled Mr. Simmons stood on the sidewalk beside a blond reporter. Clearly, he was unprepared for the interview because he had a nightcap on his head and a little bathrobe with ducks on them instead of proper clothes. He didn't look properly shaved, either.

"Er, what is this about?" Mr. Simmons asked the reporter. A microphone was shoved in his face.

"Sir! Have you any thoughts on the plight of your pupils? The students now stranded at sea in a life and death struggle against time and the elements?"

"Ah, can you… repeat that question?" Mr. Simmons struggled. The reporter sighed.

"How do you feel knowing your very own students are lost at sea?"

"Lost?! My students! What?! My class?! This is dreadful! So awful I... have to sit down," Mr. Simmons fainted.

"And there you have it folks!" the news reporter said with a sly smile. "Exactly what you all wanted to watch on T.V.! Good sport, Mr. Simmons. And now, back to you!"

"Thank you, Carrie!" The brunnette snapped with glee. "And now, exclusive breaking details! The voices of these poor, frightened youth in their time of need. We have here an audio distress signal! A live transmission from the site where rescuers are rushing to!" A sound like a microphone before set up came before the crisp voices of Rhonda and Harold came on line.

"Harold!" Rhonda snapped. "I told you to leave that alone! We're waiting for the Coast Guard to come and fix Daddy's ship."

"Aw! But I wanted to listen to some tunes" Harold whined.

"Ha! You had your chance to do exactly that, Harold, and you blew it! So now sit down and wait for your filet mignon to grill. I don't want to hear it!"

"Say, Rhonda," Arnold spoke up close to the microphone. "Do you mind if we rowed back so I could join Gerald and Stinky on the ship? Nothing's happening here so I'd like to play cards with them or something."

"Yeah! It's boring!" Harold scoffed. "No arcade games or nothin!"

"Harold! You're at the beach! Go build a sandcastle or something. I have my nails to paint. Right Nadine?"

"Right," Nadine agreed in perfect sync. "If any one needs me, I'll be in the grass looking for cricket specimens."

"Ew," Rhonda vocalized. The sound of a microphone getting knocked over ended the transmission. The brunette reporter continued her blank stare.

"Well, there you have it folks! The sounds of terrified youth. But fear not! The Coast Guard is on their way to rescue them as we speak!"

"Good to know that, Carrie. And now, back to you, Ted," they said switching back to a news reporter seated behind a large oaken desk.

"Gasp!" Curly said nearby Helga and Phoebe. He had been listening to the news report, too. "My sweet, ravishing, cupcake Rhonda! We've got to do something about this!"

"Us?" Phoebe muttered, pointing to herself in question. "What can we do about it? It's not that I'm not worried... It's just that it's the Coast Guard that has the capacity to lend aid in this kind of situation."

"Yeah, what are you saying, Curly?" Helga asked with seriousness- and genuine interest in Curly's reply.

"Simple! We take a boat out on the bay, too!"

"Curly, that will never work!" Phoebe snapped. "We have no idea where they are! And how about you, Helga!" Helga shrugged.

"Call me crazy, but I agree with Curly on this one. I don't know if we'll be able to help but…"

"Oh come now," Curly grinned. "No secrets here between us! We all know how you feel about a certain someone!"

"Shussh!" Helga grasped hold of Curly to muffle him. She scooted a glance and the room to make sure the older women were not frowning in her direction.

"Aw, let's do it! It sounded like the Coast Guard are handling it but I am a little worried about… well, you know."

"Arnold?" Phoebe said the word out loud. Helga turned bright red.

"Shussh!" Helga pounced to muffle Phoebe's mouth with the space of a moment. "Crimney! Does the whole neighborhood know now?! Don't mention it, okay?"

"To the frigate!" Curly pumped a fist in the air.

"Curly don't swear!" Phoebe admonished.

"I didn't. It's an actual word," the boy with the bowlcut haircut said. "Give me that laundry! We'll toss it in here for now!" Curly chucked it into the backroom to the laundromat. "Onwards, ladies!"

"You know, if you weren't so flippin crazy you'd actually be handsome," Helga observed.

"Thank you!" Curly said with a manic grin. They all hastened onto the street to begin one of their most reckless of all adventures.

It was easy to say they'd find a boat but not so easy to do. Helga and Phoebe sat down in a boat, yet when it was clear that no one would rent them one, they resorted to scoping the shore for an unattended one.

"This looks like a boat we could use!" Curly chirped. He untied the motor boat then boarded the vessel then started up the motor.

"Hey, isn't that criminal?" Phoebe observed. Helga and Phoebe barreled out of the way as one of Oscar's petty criminal friends loomed menacingly up behind Curly to toss him off his boat into the waters of the bay.

"Ha! Take that ye scallywag pirate! Unlawful boarding of my vessel! Kids these days!" the man snickered.

"Look it's a boat store!" Helga said pointing to a group of boats clustered on docks. But Phoebe was dismissive.

"Helga! Those boats must cost thousands of dollars! Plus nobody is going to sell one to underage kids."

"Maybe. But that makes me think of something! Hold on! There's a new sea kayak rental nearby!"

"Helga, we're still underage!" Phoebe gripped.

"Maybe. But…"

A brief amount of time later, Curly wore a fake mustache and a vivid red Hawaiian shirt. Curly was also unusually tall, for Helga's shoes stuck out on the bottom of where his feet would be. Except it was really Helga and Curly pretending to be an older man. But the clipboard was signed and Curly staggered off to the sea kayak to claim it. Phoebe settled into the seat in the hull to the front, while Helga tried to step and tripped into boat. Both wound up spread-eagled and barely clinging onto the craft. Curly gave the boat's owner a nervous thumb's up as Phoebe rowed them away.

"Ow! Get away from me!" Helga groused. She removed herself from the Hawaiian shirt and claimed the second spot in the boat. The kayak they had rented was a three-seater, so there was a cramped third space for Curly.

"Let's go, ladies!" the boy decreed. "Go forth and round up Rhonda or me, will you? I'm counting on you, Helga!"

"Pressure's on, huh? Well, I won't fail, my odd-little-twisted friend!" Helga reassured him. "Unless we get lost or something. Which is more than probable. I mean, do we even have a direction to be going?"

"The first segment of the news report said they were to the north on the coast," Phoebe quoted. "I began watching before you did."

"Great! North! We'll just guess where that is!" Curly slid Helga a compass. Helga looked at it severely.

"Good luck, for the sake of all our sweethearts!"

"Uh, Curly?" Phoebe quipped. "Do you wanna take the paddle, instead of me? I think I'm too nervous to go through with this."

"Very well!" Curly quipped. He took the oar and began to row the craft. Helga handed the compass over to Phoebe.

Still stranded on a beach, Arnold might have wished that he had visited the laundromat that afternoon. But instead, he watched Rhonda coax Harold and Eugene, whom she had let loose, to put up a renaissance-fair worthy tent for Nadine and herself. Both girls now wore necklaces of braided seaweed and seashells in their hair.

"Alright, subjects!" Rhonda sniffed. "I, the beautiful queen of the beach, forgive you!"

"Hey, you are only angry with Eugene!" Harold grumbled. "Why do I gotta help put up a stupid tent?"

"Because Harold." Rhonda rolled her eyes. "But if you're going to complain about it and ruin my fun, we'll do something else."

Arnold watched his friends bicker. Gerald had joined him on the beach, along with Stinky. All three boys had cards spread out on their knees.

"Want 'ta go down and look at the rocks?" Stinky pointed. "Looks like there might have been an old pier there."

"Sure," Arnold stated. He and his friends strode off.

"Don't go too far!" Rhonda warned.

"Aw!" Gerald scoffed. "We're on the peninsula. We can always walk to Hillwood from here if it comes down to it. I'm not too worried."

"Fine," Rhonda sniffed. She went back to arranging her seashells.

Arnold and his friends might have gone to explore the rocks. But they did not, for three enormous-sized speed boats whirled up with flashing lights. A television news helicopter followed after them. The kids blinked at the helicopter making noise overhead in astonishment.

"Don't worry kids!" man with a blow horn said. "You're saved!"

"YEAH!" everyone on the boats cheered with him.

"Oh, well, time to go!" Rhonda said simply.

"The Coast Guard are here, dumpling," her father said simply. "I told you they'd be along to help us. Nothing to worry about!"

"Yes, Dearie. Always listen to your father!" Rhonda's mother agreed.

"Yes, Mummy!"

"Do all of your outings end up like this?" Gerald asked with a subtle bit of humor underneath the politeness. Arnold chuckled as they made their way up onto lifeboats. A tugboat fastened Rhonda's family yacht to it's bumper so that is might be towed. Then they all set off back to Hillwood. Arnold enjoyed the sea air from the railing of the Coast Guard boat more than he had from Rhonda's yacht.

Fog began to roll inexplicably down from the north toward Hillwood. On one side of the haunted isle, the motorcade of boats with Arnold on it sailed right by the island on the seaward side. But Helga, Curly, and Phoebe had only just reached the area from the south, hugging the coast. They stopped paddling as a wall of fog rolled in.

"Fog?" Phoebe gulped. "In the afternoon? When does that ever happen?" There was no hope for it. They were lost. Worse, the darkness of night was blotting the sky slowly with an ever increasingly dark shade of ink.

"We'd better get to shore!" Curly demanded loudly. Wide-eyed, Helga showed her agreement by paddling. But they had disoriented themselves a bit and the shore which came into view first was that of Haunted Isle, not the mainland.

"Look!" Phoebe pointed. Their kayak glided smoothly to the shore and they carried it off the gravel with them so that the ocean waves did not lap up their craft. "The first requirement of survival is shelter!" Phoebe recounted. "Or so I've read. Maybe we should build one from sticks. Ah, but I'm tired!" The girl put a hand up over her mouth and yawned.

"I am, too," agreed Helga. All three kids stopped walking away from the beach and sat beside an ancient, rectangular-shaped stone.

"Can we make a bonfire at least!" Helga gripped.

"There's no need for that!" Curly argued. "Look!" He pointed. Up ahead, a grand stone manor stood on a hill. Lamps lit with oil fire instead of electricity flickered on, one by one.

"Ah, I don't like the look of that place." observed Helga.

"Me, neither, but it is... a house?" Phoebe uttered timidly. No gravel had crunched, yet a new voice spoke behind them.

"It is the School at Derris Rock," a calm but ethereal, creepy, girl's voice explained. A girl draped with an oil-soaked blanket of wool pushes the blanket off herself, then stared at them with orbs that seemed to have to light in them. They were as flat and without shimmer as a cast-iron pan.

"Oh!" Phoebe stuttered. "Can we find refuge for the night? We're kind of.. Lost."

"Yes," the girl said simply. "Only do not disturb the other girls. They are playing a game of musical chairs."

"Musical chairs?" Helga asked.

"Yes. They play it every day," the girl explained as expressionless as it was possible to be.

"That sounds kind of weird," said Helga. "But, ah? Do you have a telephone around here?"

"I do not understand what you are asking," the girl said. Helga griped Phoebe's shoulder.

"Ah, I kinda feel maybe we shouldn't stay here after all!" Both living girls cringed.

"Nonsense!" Curly snorted. "Let's take her up on her offer and go in! One only lives once!"

"Yes. One only lives once," the girl stated in a monotone. The front door to the manor creaked closed then crashed to shut behind Helga and Phoebe. It sent shivers running up and down their spines. The two girls clutched one another in fear.

"This way," their guide said. "Please. Sit in the parlor. You will be comfortable there."

Helga eased herself onto a Parisian couch. Phoebe did, too. A grandfather clocked eerily as they sat there. Curly, sat, too, a thoughtful expression on his face. At last, the clock struck ten and Curly forced himself to his feet.

"That's it! I'm going exploring!" Curly cried with glee. Helga stood up on her feet, enraged.

"As if! This obviously is a haunted house! If there is any, that is."

"Exactly! And that's what makes it so exhilarating!" Curly beamed. He cracked open the hallway door, swung it fully open, then walked into the hall.

"Curly!" Helga hissed. She followed after, trying to keep Curly in sight. Phoebe grasped hold of Helga's arm and held on for dear life as they loped down the hall. Curly stopped before the only lit room.

"Curly, wait!" Helga cried. But the boy opened the door wide. He stopped at the door with a vacant look. Thirteen school girls all sat on exactly thirteen chairs. All eyes turned in their direction.

"Would you.. Like to play musical chairs with us?"

"No I wouldn't. But Helga would!"

"No I wouldn't, you little dip!"

"Very well, then," flung out Curly. "I'd like to play with you kind, beautiful, boisterous ladies." None of the young ladies he spoke to seemed very boisterous. They moved and spoke like the machinations of a clock.

"Then you'll need a chair," one spoke.

"Very well!" Curly plucked up a chair from the corner of the classroom and placed it in the ring between two of the spookiest girls. Yet another grandfather clock ticked on, from ten to eleven.

"That is the weirdest game of musical chairs I've ever seen!" observed Helga. "No one ever removes a chair. Everyone just keeps switching seats."

"We know. That is how we play," said a single voice almost sounding like two. Helga shivered. Then she mastered control of herself.

"Well, if stuck in a school full of ghosts, might as well be on good terms with them! I'll play, too!" Helga grasped hold of a chair. As she sat down on it, an angry eye peered in on them front behind a half-turned doorknob.

"Er, Helga! I'm not so sure that's a good idea!" Phoebe gulped. The angry eye disappeared.

"Oh, come join me Phoebe!" Helga patted her lap. Phoebe sat on her like Helga was Santa Claus. It was strange, but she was glad for it. To be honest, both she and Helga were terrified.

The clock hands moved to 11:55. As one, all of the girls in the ancient classroom stood up and filed out of the room. Only one paused at the door.

"You had better leave," she spoke. "The angry one comes at midnight."

"The angry one?" Helga shivered. "What angry one?" She hid behind Phoebe, which accounted for Phoebe's look of disappointment. So much for looking to Helga for protection from angry ghosts.

The clock struck midnight. Chairs began to float and the noir-eyed girl whom had first greeted them to the isle appeared among them, even though Helga could swear no one had opened the door to enter.

"The girls!" the girl with long, ebony braids lamented. Her hair lashed around her head like snakes. "The girls! I was not needed! They did not need me to play with them! Yet I wanted to!" A school desk shot through the window, breaking it. Then two more desks hurdled through the air, breaking the remaining windows. Helga and Phoebe huddled to the floor. Curly watched. He knelt on the floor, transfixed.

"It's not that they didn't want you to play with them!" Phoebe yelled out with terror. "It's only that you needed to bring a chair for yourself!" She lobbed the words as one last desperate measure, a prayer for peace. And yet the onslaught of desks ended. The door noiselessly creaked open and the thirteen remaining girls floated into the half ruined classroom.

"It's not that we didn't need you," one of the girls spoke grimly. "You just never wanted to play."

"Annah!" one of the girls shouted among them with something that sounded oddly like love.

Helga, Phoebe, and Curly woke up in the morning on Haunted Isle. But instead of finding themselves in a haunted house, they had all been sleeping among headstones. That had been the odd-shaped shadows around them in the dark the night before. Phoebe stood up and stretched herself before a tombstone which read, "Annah."

"I had the craziest dream last night," Helga spoke low, catching Phoebe's stare.

"Me, too," Phoebe whispered, catching that stare. With a nod, both girls ran for the sea kayak and began pushing it to the water. Curly helped them get their craft down to the shore and then they were off, paddling away from the island as swiftly as possible. Curly was silent, his mouth folded downwards in a thoughtful frown.

The helicopters and news reporters showed up again on the beach when Helga and Curly paddled the sea kayak straight into a crowd of surfers beside a lifeguard tower. It didn't matter that they were nowhere near the rental docks. At least they were back in civilization again.

"Whew!" Helga breathed out. "Now that was an adventure to last me at least three years!"

"Nah, I could go ghost hunting again tomorrow!" boasted Curly.

"Adventure junkie," Helga flung out. Somehow, the authorities had been alerted and had found out enough to know to look for a red kayak. So when they got out of the sea kayak, Helga, Phoebe, and Curly were swarmed by the lifeguards. Then, soon after, reporters and friends.

"Miss, miss! How are you? Did you know you were missing overnight? Where were you?"

"How would I not know?" Helga sniped back, anxious and angry beneath the press of the crowd.

"We went to Haunted Isle!" Curly blurted out with delight.

"I'm sorry! Mother, Father!" Phoebe reached up for her parents made it through the crowd to reach her.

"We were so worried, daughter!" her father Kyo, said.

"Ack! The least you could do was call, Honey!" Miriam said, holding her clutch bag purse. One of Curly's parents was there, too, but he said nothing out loud as the press clicked away, taking hundreds of photos for the local news.

"Hey, it's Helga!" Harold shouted. He and Arnold and Gerald all waved in greeting. "Everyone will be happy to hear you all are alright!"

"Whaddya mean WE? We should be glad YOU are alright! You got stranded on a yacht yesterday!"

"Aw, we were okay!" said Harold. "But 'cho really shouldn't try rescuing if you're only going to need rescuing yourself! Your rescue was a whole lot worse! WE had caviar. And it's a little salty and stuff but it turns out it's not so bad. Not as bad as Squirrel Cob brand cereal, anyway."

"Glad to learn that," Helga sniffed. "Now if that's all, I'd REALLY appreciate it if we could all go home right about now. I really need a shower. And some cheese puffs."

"Rhonda, my sweet-custard-stuffed praline!" Curly shouted with arms extended. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Ew." Rhonda said pressing the boy away from her. "Get back into the sea already, will you?" Arnold and Gerald smiled from among their friends and the crowd gathered on Hillwood beach. All's well that ends well, after all. The end.

 **GHOST STORY! ;)**


End file.
